


Orchard of Mines

by CirillaShepard



Series: Solipsism [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Freeform, No Dialogue, Solipsism, descriptive writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:05:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7804690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirillaShepard/pseuds/CirillaShepard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a memory feels as real as life, it's as valid as life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orchard of Mines

**Author's Note:**

> **DISCLAIMER**  
> I do not own anything from the Mass Effect game series (unfortunately) but BioWare does.  
> Damn them.  
> I’m just borrowing their characters for fun when my muse grabs me.  
> ____________  
> Come and say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://memoryandthought.tumblr.com)!

_“…and you seem…to break like time…so fragile on the inside…”_  
  
Sometimes I look at her and wonder where her strength comes from.  
  
I know that she is fire and light and she burns with the intensity of suns and shines with the brightness of stars.  
  
It is not without surprise, though, that I know she is more than that - more than a fighter; more than a woman with biotics as powerful as old forgotten magicks and more than a Commander.  
  
In rare moments when I meet her eyes across the desks in the conference rooms I am briefly shown something in her gaze that makes me stop and take a breath:  
  
Vulnerability.  
  
For a fleeting second, she shows me that she’s scared.  
Scared we won’t win this battle, scared that she might not come back.  
Scared that the fate of worlds rest on her decisions; scared of the lives in her hands.  
And, whispered solely for my ears – scared of losing me.  
  
We both know that will happen.  
  
While I pray, meditate and atone for my past transgressions; I see the weight of the world settling heavier and heavier on her shoulders.  
And because she is strong, my fierce warrior angel, she keeps it inside.  
  
Watching her in battle is like seeing a Goddess walk descending to the world.  
To the wicked she is anger and death; yet to the innocent she is compassionate and kind – an angel, a savior.  
  
She is fire and the ocean; bright and blazing, consuming anything in its way; deep and dangerous, a place full of undiscovered wonders that it would take a lifetime to find.  
I have the wish to spend the rest of my lifetime finding them, yet I wonder how long it will be before the responsibility she has shouldered will take her and leave her drowning under the dangerous waves of her life.  
  
I love her in those moments. She burns with passion and I fear nothing when I stand with her in battle.  
  
In our intimate moments, when she is arched under me and my hands ghost over her warm skin she seems to break; her fragility bared to me and it’s beautiful, like her soul is glittering in the galaxies around us.  
She touches me and then I am fire, she scorches my skin and we smolder. In those heated moments we are like lightning in a bottle; crashing together all friction and white heat, cresting on tidal waves that flow into broken time and send us reeling.  
  
She is grace and beauty, she is fire and ice; she is the ocean and the galaxies that spin around us as we hurtle through them and she is forever.  
  
She sighs, sated and relaxed.  
She smiles.  
And she shines like diamonds to me then.  



End file.
